


Misuse of Police Resources

by greenapricot



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18057068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenapricot/pseuds/greenapricot
Summary: He should have gone with rope, then he’d be able to untie himself, but he couldn’t quite maintain the fantasy of Lewis tying him up in intricate knots, except for how he’s always doing it unintentionally. James thumps his head back against the mattress in defeat. He’s not getting out of this on his own, he’s going to have to ring someone, and there are very few someones in his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is McG’s fault for asking an innocent question about handcuffs on discord, which led to a discussion, and here we are. It takes place sometime after Fearful Symmetry.
> 
> Thanks to Jack for the in depth pointing out of things that weren't quite right so I could fix them, to McG for the lightning quick read through and assurances that it does flow nicely, and to everyone who was part of that discord discussion for fueling the fire.

James sighs and lays his head back on the pillow; his right arm secured to the headboard with his handcuffs, his left hand on his cock. He’s had just enough wine to be relaxed, just enough for this to seem like a good idea. His arm is at a bit of an awkward angle, with the only place to attach the cuffs at the bottom edge of the headboard, but it works. It more than works. It is better with his arm bound, he knew it would be, even despite the fact that he can’t quite maintain the fantasy that the handcuff around his wrist is Lewis’ hand. 

But he has no trouble imagining that it was Lewis who fastened the cuff there, that Lewis hasn’t yet decided if he’s going to cuff James’ left wrist as well. That he’s watching James from the chair in the corner, telling him how to touch himself. James kicks the duvet down the bed, pushing it as far as he can with his feet, giving Lewis in his head an unobstructed view. 

Touch yourself, Lewis will say. Slow strokes, pull the foreskin up over the head, now down. Now again. Slowly. _God. Like that._ James brings his knees up, lets his legs fall open so Lewis can see all of him. He wants Lewis to see all of him. James rocks his hips up into his fist with each thrust, but slowly, still slowly. He’s got all night. He could take all night. 

Lewis could draw this out, tell James to bring himself right to the edge and then stop; the stretch of James’ right arm toward the other side of the bed grounding him as he waits, fingers stilled around his cock. Waiting for Lewis to tell him to move. Tell him to stroke faster now, but not too fast, slow down a bit. _There, yes._ Lewis will let him get even closer this time before he tells James to stop again, muscles trembling with the effort of not following through. He wants to come so badly but he won’t let himself. Not until Lewis tells him so.

James will try to relax into the knowledge that Lewis will take care of him, that he won’t leave James wanting. When he’s finally relaxed, Lewis will tell him to put more lube on his fingers and press them behind his balls, then further, over his hole but not in; pressure and the promise of more. _Fuck._ He can almost imagine how it would feel if it were Lewis’ cock pressed against him. James strains against the handcuffs with how much he wants… everything. 

That’s when Lewis will tell him to touch his cock again, fingers slick, his strokes faltering with how turned on he is. Lewis lets James start off at his own pace this time, and he’s so close he can’t stop himself moaning aloud. So close. Slower, Lewis will say. Not quite yet. Just a bit longer. 

_Oh fuck._ It’s exquisite torture. Lewis will tell James to slow his strokes even more. When James can’t manage it, can’t stop the thrust of his hips or the slide of his hand on his cock, Lewis will move from the chair to the bed and wrap his fingers around James’, stilling his motions, tightening his grip around the base of James’ cock, holding him on a knife edge. 

James whimpers. Forgets about the handcuffs and tries to use his other hand, the pinch of metal into his wrist sending jolts of pleasure through him. Lewis will place a hand on James’ chest, calming the too quick beat of his heart and James will breathe. He will relax. He will let go. 

And then Lewis will say, okay, lad. He’ll sit back and release James’ hand and James will stroke his cock with fast sure strokes, moaning, thrusting into his own fist, arching his back, his arm straining against the handcuffs, metal rattling against wood and _oh fuck yes. Yes._ Until his rhythm falters and he’s coming, spilling all over himself and the sheets and Lewis’ hand still resting on his thigh. God, it’s good. _So fucking good._

James lies still for long minutes, his breath evening out as the world refocuses until he starts to feel chilled; sweat and come cooling on his skin. The duvet is out of reach with his arm still handcuffed to the headboard. He reaches for the key on the bedside table but his fingers brush only smooth wood. Sitting up as much as he can with his right arm still stretched across the bed, he takes a closer look. Phone. Books. Lube. Lamp. No key. 

Must have jostled it when he got more lube. James reaches for his phone, moving it out of the way and dropping it on the bed next to him. No key behind it. The stack of books is a bit farther away, he can only reach the bottom one with the tips of his fingers. He manages to shift the stack a bit, then a bit more, a little bit more, until it topples off the table taking the open bottle of lube with it. At least none of those were library books. 

James shifts again, pulling against the handcuff until it bites into his wrist, but he can’t quite see the floor. The key could be down there, but he’s sure it was behind the books, closer to the wall. Which means it’s probably fallen into the gap between the table and the wall. He throws the pillow out of the way to give himself a better view. 

There is a glint of metal down there in the space between the table and the wall. He stretches farther, the cuff digging into his wrist and— The tips of his fingers brush the key. It shifts, he can just about grab it between his middle and index fingers. Almost. A tad further and— Shit. He’s managed to push it out of reach. He gives the table a good whack in frustration and hears the key slide down the wall. Buggering fuck. He can’t see it at all it anymore.

James sighs. He is well and truly stuck. And his right wrist is beginning to ache where the handcuff is digging into it. He tries for the key one more time, fingers brushing the space between the table and the wall. Nothing but smooth wood and plaster.

He should have gone with rope, then he’d be able to untie himself, but he couldn’t quite maintain the fantasy of Lewis tying him up in intricate knots, except for how he’s always doing it unintentionally. James thumps his head back against the mattress in defeat. He’s not getting out of this on his own, he’s going to have to ring someone, and there are very few someones in his life. 

Lewis is, of course, the first person he thinks of, the first person he always thinks of full stop. But not a chance in hell. There’s his bandmates, but not one of them wouldn’t jokingly mention this from now until eternity. Also no. That leaves Laura. She’ll take the piss as well, but she won’t take it too far. James is reasonably sure he can count on her discretion.

He’ll ask her to fetch his spare keys from the office. She can use them to get into the flat and that will save him from having to explain why he needs the keys over the phone. James picks his phone up off the dirty sheets and dials Laura’s number before he can think better of it. 

“Hello James,” Laura says, bright and cheery and unaware of the state he’s in on the other end of the phone. He can hear pub sounds in the background. It is a Saturday night and Laura has a much more active social life than he does.

“Laura. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask a favour.”

“Of course,” she says, without hesitation. 

“It’s a— I need you to swear to secrecy first.” James’ voice sounds desperate to his own ears. He takes a calming breath.

“It’s all right, James. I don’t—”

“I’m serious. I need you to swear. Please.” 

Laura laughs. “Okay, I swear.”

“Thank you.” James sighs. “Can you to go to the station and get the spare keys from my desk, second drawer down on the right, and bring them to my flat?”

“You locked yourself out?”

“I— I’m not—” Maybe it’s better to let her think he has simply locked himself out if it gets her to the station and then his flat with a minimum of explanation. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it happens to the best of us,” Laura says. 

If only that were true. “That’s— Thank you. How soon can you fetch them?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Laura says. “Robbie’s here with me and says he’s got your other spare key on his key ring.”

“No. Laura. You can’t—”

“It’s no trouble. We’ll be there in ten.”

“No— I really—” 

She’s ended the call. Fuck. It’s bad enough that Laura is going to see him like this. But how is he going to ever look Lewis in the eye again? 

“Hathaway, you are a world class idiot,” he says to the ceiling. “Was that orgasm worth it?”

James drops his phone on the mattress and sighs. That’s it then, he’s got to either get out of this before Lewis gets here or dissuade him from coming. He’ll ring Laura back, tell her it was a false alarm and that he’s in his flat and fine. He is in his flat after all. 

There’s no answer, though. She must already be on the way over. 

If Laura had answered and he’d convinced her to stay away, what then? Eventually, die here on his bed covered in come? It’s a shame he doesn’t have cats to eat his corpse and dispose of the evidence. For fuck’s sake, who decides that an ideal Saturday night is handcuffing themselves to the bed to have a wank about their boss? And then loses the bloody key. 

At least all that struggling to reach the key has warmed him up again. Oh, maybe he can push the bed closer to the table and give himself the extra couple of inches reach he needs. He gets out of bed as much as he can with his right wrist still tethered to the headboard, his arm twisted awkwardly across his body to get his feet onto the floor, and pushes against the bed with his left knee and hand. The bed slides a couple of inches across the floor, likely scratching the hardwood, until it meets the resistance of the bedside table. He scrambles back onto the mattress. 

With the bed shifted he can see the key again, caught between the table and the wall not far above the floor. James lies down on his back, stretching his arms as far as he can, hooking his left knee over the edge of the bed to give himself more leverage. 

There’s a noise from the front of the flat. He stops a moment and listens. A knock on the door then more insistent knocking. Has it been ten minutes already? Another knock then the sound of a key in the lock. Shit shit _shit_. James redoubles his efforts straining against the handcuffs as he hears the front door open and Laura calling his name.


	2. Chapter 2

“James,” Laura calls as she pushes open the front door. “Did you find your keys after all?”

There’s no answer, only a shuffling sound and a stifled grunt from down the hallway past the kitchen. All the lights are off. 

“Thought he said he was locked out,” Robbie says, shutting the door behind them.

“So did I,” Laura replies. 

“Are you all right, lad?” Robbie calls into the flat. 

Laura starts down the hallway that leads to the bedroom with Robbie on her heels, following the now more frantic scuffling noises. She would have thought Robbie would be James’ first call when he locked himself out, though she also would have thought James would be outside the flat. But he hadn’t actually said he’d locked himself out, had he? She’d only assumed.

“James?” Robbie calls, as they reach the bedroom door. There’s light filtering out from underneath it. 

“Sir!” James sounds short of breath. There are more scuffling sounds, then another grunt, as if he’s trying to move a piece of heavy furniture. 

“We’re coming in,” Laura says. 

“Wait! Laura!” James shouts, his tone rising in alarm, but the door isn’t latched and it swings open when she pushes it to reveal… Well, not at all what she expected to find.

“James,” Robbie sputters from behind her, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder as if to steady himself. 

“What’s— How?” Laura’s not sure which question to ask in light of the sight before her. 

James is sprawled across the bed, naked, all flushed skin and long limbs, a set of police-issue handcuffs securing his right wrist to the bed. His left arm is outstretched, left leg hooked over the edge of the mattress, his whole body straining against the handcuffs trying to reach behind the bedside table. Laura can’t help but stare for a moment, taking in all that golden skin and lean muscle. James is undeniably beautiful. It’s a picture she’d gladly immortalise with her phone camera if James didn’t look quite so mortified and near panic. 

James looks frantically from Laura to Robbie and back to the table, then twists around to pick up a pillow from the other side of the bed, covering himself with it. A good effort toward modesty, if the room didn’t stink of sex and James wasn’t handcuffed to his own bed. Laura’s already seen enough to know James has got nothing to be modest about. 

“James,” Robbie says again, his grip on Laura’s shoulder tightening before he lets go and takes a step farther into the room. By the tone of his voice, she’d think he’d just witnessed one of the great wonders of the world. 

“Sir,” James says, his already flushed chest turning a shade pinker. He looks like he wants nothing more than to fall through the mattress and disappear. 

“How did—? Did someone do this to you?” Robbie sounds incensed, ready to track down whoever it may be and throttle them. But with the way James is looking at Robbie, Laura has serious doubts that there was anyone else in the room before she and Robbie arrived. 

“I wish,” James says, almost wistful. He meets Robbie’s eyes for a ghost of a moment then looks up at the ceiling and mumbles, “I have only myself to blame.”

“You didn’t lock yourself out,” Robbie says, he’s still staring at James. His brow creases as if he’s about to say something more, then he ducks his head and rubs his hand over the back of his neck.

“I didn’t— If you could—” James tries to gesture toward the bedside table with his right hand—his left still holding the pillow in place in his lap—then winces, the flush on his chest deepening. Robbie takes half a step forward and James’ head snaps up, meeting Robbie’s gaze, his eyes wide. He looks caught between the urge to flee, which he can’t, and reaching for Robbie. 

“Robbie,” Laura says, handing him her car keys. “There’s a first aid kit in the boot, small black bag with a red cross on it. Fetch it for me please.” Robbie flashes her a dazed look, his cheeks almost as pink as James’, and leaves. 

With Robbie out of the room, James relaxes somewhat. Laura steps forward and pulls the bedside table away from the wall, hearing the telltale sound of something metal hitting the hardwood floor as she does. She feels around behind the table and picks up the key, then moves to the far side of the bed and opens the handcuffs. 

As soon as he’s free, James bends forward, still holding the pillow firmly in place over his crotch, and reaches for the duvet that’s balled up at the end of the bed, accidentally giving Laura an excellent view of his fine arse in the process. He settles back against the headboard, covered from the waist down, sitting cross-legged under the duvet. He folds up awfully small for such a tall man. 

“Thank you for— that.” James gestures to the handcuffs still attached to the right side of the bed. There are angry red marks on his wrist where the metal has bit into his flesh. “I’m fine now, there’s no need for you to stick around.”

Laura raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’m going to leave you here without an explanation or a look at that wrist?” 

James shrugs. “One can hope?”

Laura sits down on the edge of the bed and motions for James to show her his wrist. He sighs and holds his arm out to her. He doesn’t appear to have done any serious damage, but he must have been struggling against the handcuffs for quite a while for the skin to have been rubbed so raw.

“How long were you stuck like that before you rang me?” 

“I wasn’t stuck in the beginning.” 

“They do make padded handcuffs, you know,” Laura says. She turns his arm over, prodding gently at the abrasions and noting, purely from a professional standpoint, how fine-boned and beautiful James’ hand and wrist are.

“I wasn’t— I didn’t exactly plan it out ahead of time.” 

“You don’t say.” 

James huffs out a self-deprecating laugh and shakes his head. “I had a fair amount of wine and I—” He sighs. “There’s no rational explanation.”

“How about the irrational explanation, then?”

Another sigh. “I’ve got a sinking feeling you already know what it is.”

Laura may not be a detective, but she hasn’t missed the longing, affectionate looks James has been directing at Robbie over the years. Nor did she miss the look on James’ face when Robbie first entered the room; that level of panic speaks to more than just mortification at being found in a compromising position by his boss. It’s a leap, but not a very big one. 

“You were imagining Robbie had handcuffed you to the bed,” she says.

James’ face and chest go red again, but he holds her gaze almost defiantly. He’s not admitting to it, but he’s not denying either. 

“I’m not judging you,” Laura says. “But this hardly seems safe or sane.”

The sound of the front door opening and shutting filters down the hallway and the look of panic returns to James’ face. 

“Please don’t—” James looks at her beseechingly as Robbie’s footsteps draw nearer. “Lewis doesn’t need to—” 

Robbie stops half a step inside the door, holding the first aid kit to his chest, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from James. James ducks his head and pulls the duvet up to cover his chest. 

“I’m— I—” James stops, shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry you had to see that, sir.”

“Ah, that’s—” Robbie is blushing furiously, making no move to hand Laura the first aid kit or do anything besides continue to stare at James. “That’s— It’s fine, lad.”

Laura steps forward and takes the kit from Robbie’s unresisting hands, sitting back down and opening it on the bed next to her. 

“Robbie,” she says, neither he or James have moved. Any minute now the air between them is going to burst into flame from the heat of their gazes. “Could you put the kettle on?”

“Aye. Yes,” Robbie says as if coming out of a daze. James’ eyes follow him out the door. 

Laura turns back to James. “So,” she says, pulling gauze out of the first aid kit and dabbing antiseptic on the abrasions on his wrist. “Now that he knows, what are you going to do?” 

James’ arm tenses in her grasp. “I don’t— He doesn’t know.” 

“We both saw you handcuffed to the bed. Naked. The room smells like sex. I’d say that’s pretty compelling evidence.”

James shakes his head. “He doesn’t know I was thinking about him.”

If Laura can read James’ body language then Robbie, who spends so much more time with him, surely must be able to as well. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Fuck,” James covers his face with his left hand and slumps back against the headboard, pulling his right arm out of her grasp.

“Maybe you didn’t notice with all the panicking you were doing but Robbie was blushing as much as you.” 

“That doesn’t— that only means he’s not used to seeing naked men handcuffed to beds.”

Laura takes hold of James’s wrist again and begins to wrap it with a bandage. “Or he’s not used to seeing naked men who he’s attracted to handcuffed to beds. If you didn’t have such a high clear rate I’d swear you were both terrible detectives.” 

James narrows his eyes at her. “Weren’t you two on a date?”

Laura laughs. “That ship sailed a long time ago and I wasn’t on it. You know what we were talking about when you rang?” James shakes his head. “You. Or rather he was telling me how worried he’s been about you after your last couple of cases. That he wishes you’d find someone so he’d know you weren’t going home to an empty flat at the end of a bad day.” 

“He tried that on me already. ‘For your sake, you need a partner,’” James says in a remarkable approximation of Robbie’s accent, then he sighs looking sheepish and resigned. “I don’t— What I want and what he thinks I need are not the same thing.”

“Have you tried telling him what you want?” Laura asks, securing the bandage and sitting back. “If for no other reason than so you won’t have to worry about losing the key again with a second person involved.”

James barks out a startled laugh and scrubs his hand over his face. “I really fucked up.”

“You sure about that?”

“My boss just found me naked, handcuffed to my bed with my own handcuffs. If nothing else it’s a misuse of police resources.”

“I doubt he’s bothered about the police resources.” 

“It was a fantasy. I wasn’t planning on sharing it with anyone. I’m sorry that you—” James sighs. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to open another bottle of wine and spend the rest of the weekend wallowing in my own misery before I have to go back to work Monday morning. That is assuming Lewis is willing to pretend this never happened.”

“Or you could acknowledge that it happened and go from there.”

James flashes her a sad smile. “I appreciate your efforts to make me feel better by taking the piss…” He sighs again, letting the sentence trail off into nothing, no longer looking embarrassed, only miserable. 

Laura rests her hand on his unbandaged wrist. “I’m serious, James. There’s a reason why I call you his other half. What you two have, it’s nothing like how Robbie was with any of his previous sergeants. I think you moved past that in the first months of your partnership.”

“Partnership.” James sighs. “Maybe I did.” He flashes her a smile that doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “But he can’t—”

“Can’t he? Think about it, it’s not only been you doing things above and beyond for him over the years.”

James looks down at his hands, twisting them around in his lap, toying with the edge of the bandage. Laura can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he pieces everything together. When he looks up at her again, his eyes are shining, the corners of his lips turned up the tiniest bit.

“You really think so?” he asks, quiet; almost a whisper.

“I’d put money on it.” 

James smiles for real then, his whole face lighting up, and Laura is struck again by how utterly gorgeous he is. Robbie Lewis is a lucky man. But then, so is James.

“Robbie,” Laura calls out the open door, over the sound of tea being made in the kitchen. “James has something to tell you.”

“Laura!” James gives her a wide-eyed look, clutching at the duvet as he glances to the open door and back. Robbie’s footsteps draw closer. 

“No time like the present, wouldn’t you say?” Laura says.

Then Robbie is standing in the doorway again, starting at James. James meets his gaze, shoulders tense, fingers twitching. They are having a wordless conversation like so many she’s witnessed between them over the years, but this one feels far more intimate than anything else she’s seen tonight.

“Sir,” James says, finally; breathless, his shoulders relaxing and hands stilling.

“Aye, lad.” Robbie smiles and James smiles back, biting his lip. 

Robbie takes a hesitant step forward, then another, and sits down on the opposite side of the bed from Laura, almost on top of James’ legs under the duvet.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Laura says, gathering items back into her first aid kit and zipping up the bag. Neither of them acknowledges her presence, but it’s not like that’s never happened before. 

Laura glances back for a moment as she walks out the door to see James run his fingers over Robbie’s cheek, then across his lips almost reverently. When Robbie leans in for a kiss Laura gently closes the door behind her.

______


End file.
